I arrive a little late at Hadvar's for breakfast, on account of the bandit and three wolves that attack me. But I expect Hadvar's uncle and his family will be forgiving--everyone in Riverwood is so happy to be alive, and besides, we'll call it a brunch and eat twice as much.
I come inside and take a seat at the table, remembering that not three days ago I was doing the very same thing. Except alone. And illegally. The meal is an awkward one, anyways; Hadvar's uncle seems to expect his wife to wait on us hand and foot, but she never shows.
I cough politely and excuse myself. While this demonstration of a clearly male-dominant society is enlightening, I can't help but think someone in Whiterun ought to know about the dragon Hadvar and I saw just a few minutes ago. Besides, I'll get to see the Jarl! In his court!
I hurry to Whiterun post-haste, but make a pit stop along the way, offering my skills as a tanner to a local blacksmith in exchange for some steel, which I use to make myself some more arrows. Surely I'll be needing them.
After that, I arrive at court.
It's suitably impressive at first, but the Jarl's business-like attitude has me huffing and puffing over to his wizard, who hires me to do some advanced gravedigging for him. I accept, smelling money. I'm in a Jarl's court, after all--these folk probably bleed money.
While leaving the court, I am accosted by a priest.
Our exchange is anything but civil. He acts like he's preaching a message of truth, hope, and salvation, but I can't hear him over the sound of his racism. I reckon if he were in Windhelm, he'd be stomping around the docks with the rest of those Noses. His message is not aided by the gigantic Nose statue behind him.
Stabbing a reptile.
I leave Whiterun, glad to be back out in the open air and wilderness with nothing but compulsively helpful wolves to bother me. Sadly, this bliss doesn't last long--I encounter a small crowd on the road. I try to make conversation, but the men suddenly pull steel and close in on me, telling me they've been hired to make me pay for my actions.
I'm flattered, actually--given how shabby Windhelm seemed, I'm surprised anyone thought my bout of petty thievery was worth attending to. These guys are neither shabby nor petty, though, and it's the toughest fight of my life.
I barely survive, no thanks to a passing group of elves who just sneer at me, calling me a "thing". After cutting down the last of the thugs, I'm tempted to go after the elves, but I take their superior armor and grotesque self-confidence into account, and decide against it.
I find my way to the barrow the wizard had me investigating, and it's a lot more extensive than I expected. My entrance is carefully planned, involving a few stealthy takedowns--I'm becoming quite proficient with my bow. But after a while, I simply wander the halls, amazed by the place.
I wonder to myself how the Noses could have let themselves fall so far. This place is amazing! I'll bet it goes on for miles! What kind of civilization would trade this for Windhelm, and why?
Oh.
I quickly lose my taste for the barrow and hurry it up. The undead scratch from within the walls and unseen voices whisper unintelligible, though probably rude things into my ears. I find the wizard's vaunted "Dragonstone", check out some ancient carvings, and get out of there.
I'm briefly lost upon exiting the barrow, but I remember the lake from my earlier sightseeing and head back to Riverwood, stopping in to chat with an old hermitess. I savor the moment, reminding myself that not every human in Skyrim is a racist, sharp-nosed Nose. Some of them are just indescribably ugly and live in seclusion, doing who knows what when no one's looking.
I check in at the Jarl's court, but things don't go as I'd hoped. Instead of getting paid for my efforts, I get drafted. I can't deny a sudden tingle at the prospect of getting to see a real live dragon, but if forced conscription is what passes for a quest reward in this hold, I want none of it. The Jarl is persuasive, though, so I finally acquiesce.
While the bodyguard grandstands for the soldiers, I go on ahead to the watchtower.
I take cover by a nearby tree, watching the skies for the reported dragon. I reflect on my situation. After seeing the dragon from earlier, I thought maybe I'd found someone in this country who would treat me as an equal, but seeing the wreckage of the watchtower gives me doubts--whatever its reasons, the dragon's been brutal. And if I'm wrong and he's a pretty cool guy, Whiterun kills my only friend.
Either way, I'm in a pickle.
But when the dragon finally shows up and dives straight toward me, I give in to instinct.
He nearly gets me on his first pass, letting out a mighty roar as he passes overhead.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous.
Unfortunately, it seems I'm not the only one less than immune to the dragon's charisma--a pair of sabrecats show up to help and set upon the Whiterunners. To my dismay, they begin tearing the guards apart.
I'm too busy dealing with the cats to focus on the dragon, and he makes his own foray into the battlefield, with terrifying ferocity.
I don't think we can be friends anymore.
Conflicted in spirit, but only a bit, I loose arrow after arrow. The dragon attacks me in turn, unleashing a mighty blast of...well, it figures that after all this, the thing breathes Windhelm. Now it's personal. My irritation restored, I slay the icy beast.
But my heart softens a bit as the ancient creature falls to the ground, the strength gone from its mighty limbs. I look into its eyes, seeing something like...acknowledgment? But the moment passes and the dragon crumbles to dust before my eyes, leaving only its bones, a testament to its former power.
And then things get weird. Some ghostly something or other invades my body. I yelp in surprise, and send a nearby rabbit sailing into the stratosphere. The surviving guard calls me "Dragonborn".
This is too much for me. I'm just a former slave who knows his way around a bow like the back of his neighbor's living room. I slip away before anyone notices I'm gone.
I turn toward Whiterun, keen on seeing if anyone will buy the bones and scales I took off the dragon's corpse. Then the mountain screams at me.
Nope, nope, I'm out of here. I'm going back to Windhelm.
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